I think maybe I’m a bad person, or maybe I’m just really, really tired? I don’t know if this even counts as a confession because it feels so petty, but it’s making me feel like my skin is too tight. I work in the university archives—it’s mostly just cataloging old letters and digitizing brittle, dusty things—and honestly I’ve started asking for every single Saturday shift they have. I tell Sam it’s for the extra pay because we’re both barely scraping by on our creative stuff, but that’s a lie. I’m just... I’m ANGRY every time I’m in the apartment with her lately and I don’t know why. It started after we moved in together six months ago. She’s a painter, and she’s so... loud? Not her voice, just her existence. She wants us to be in the same room all the time, even when we aren't talking. I thought I wanted this. I spent years in grad school thinking about having a stable home so I could finally focus on my own art, but now I’m just spending all my money on rent and spending all my time trying to NOT be home. I feel like I’m disappearing into her life and I hate it. I hate that I need her half of the rent to even have a place to live.